And if he caught one of them, occasionally, checking out her butt or her legs, it only took one hard stare to have that individual getting busy elsewhere.

He still couldn’t figure her. She sauntered down to the job looking, always, like something clipped from the glossy pages of a magazine. Perfect and female. But she poked around the dust and grime of the site as if she were one of the crew, asking pointed questions about things like the wiring.

He’d come across her having a heated debate with one of his men over baseball. And an hour later, he overheard her on her cell phone, chatting away in precise and fluent French.

No, after two weeks of this easy routine, he still couldn’t figure her. But neither could he stop thinking about her.

Now, as she wandered the main studio, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

She wore some soft sweater in deep blue over gray leggings. Her hair was bundled up in some fascinating way that left her nape bare and sexy.

The room was warm thanks to the new heating system. The plaster work was well underway, and he’d brought in the first samples of the woodwork he had molded himself to match the original.

His father had left only a short time before, after putting in six hours on plumbing. A difficult and tense six hours, Brody thought now. It was a pleasure to put that aside and look at Kate.

“The plasterer’s doing a great job,” she said after touring the walls. “I almost feel guilty that we’re going to cover so much up with mirrors.”

“Your glass is on order. It’ll be in middle of February.”

She picked up the sample of woodwork. “This is beautiful, Brody. You’ll never be able to tell it from the original.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Yes, it is.” She set the wood down again. “You’re moving along, right on schedule. Jobwise. But…” She started toward him. “In the personal department, you’re lagging.”

“Takes a while to lay the groundwork.”

“Depends what you’re planning on building, Brody.” She laid her hands on his shoulder. “I want a date.”

“We had lunch.”

“A grown-up date. The sort reasonable, unattached adults indulge in from time to time. Dinner, O’Connell. Maybe a movie. You may not be aware, but many restaurants stay open after the lunch shift.”

“I’ve heard that. Look, Kate.” He backed up, but she moved forward with him. “There’s Jack, and school nights, and complications.”

“Yes, there’s Jack. I enjoy spending time with him, but I’d like a little one-on-one with Jack’s father. I don’t think your son will be scarred for life if you go out one evening. In fact, here’s what we’re going to do. You, me, Friday night. Dinner. I’ll make the arrangements. Pick me up at seven. You, me, Jack, Saturday afternoon. Movies. My treat. I’ll pick you both up at one. Settled.”

“It’s not that simple. There’s the whole baby-sitter deal. I don’t know who I’d—”